


The Only Time You Open Up Is When We Get Undressed

by gods_among_us (orphan_account)



Series: wordverse.gif [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Cheating, Engagement, F/M, Infidelity, John is a Bit Not Good, M/M, One Night Stands, dave is kinda an asshole, likeeee boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7964902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/gods_among_us
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t look phased by the idea that he was sleeping with a near married man. In fact, you’d go as far to say he looked pleased with himself. He was proud of how he’d gotten you like this, almost. Proud of the hickey worn like a badge on his neck. </p><p>He really was an asshole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Time You Open Up Is When We Get Undressed

**Author's Note:**

> hOLLLLY SHIT BOI  
> this is the first johndave fanfic i've ever posted and i still cannot believe?? 
> 
> anyways this is part of a series i'm dubbing wordverse because the idea behind it is that my friend gives me a list of words and i include them all in the fic. 
> 
> WORDS: charade, wheelies, scepter, orbit, tangent, badge, exuberant, cellophane, telegram

**WORDS:** _charade, wheelies, scepter, orbit,  tangent, badge, exuberant, cellophane, telegram_

\----

In eleventh-grade science class, your teacher proposed the prospect of a spiral galaxy collapsing. He said that thought it was a complex question, the short answer was no, it couldn’t.

At the time, you scribbled this down in your notes just as the bell rang and let your exuberant friends tug you to your next class. You lived in comfort knowing that this galaxy would never ever collapse.

\----

You didn’t know why you let Rose drag you out to these things. Lights were flashing, music was thumping, and it smelled like booze, sweat, and desperation. Your hand grasped the drink you’d bought to look like you fit in here amongst young couples and singles grinding up against each other and cheering. The buzz of the yelling combined with the surprisingly alright but super loud music being played was enough to make you want to go deaf.

You sighed, taking a sip of your.. Something or other. You didn’t know. Kanaya got it for you and said it’d be more your speed. You rarely drank, contrary to your fiancée who was a near alcoholic. She was at work, building things and breaking them down. Dirk was working, too, and you could never seem to find a way to tell the guy to stop pushing himself so hard. At least he had Jake to help him for a while, you supposed…

Rose had said she was sick of seeing you wallowing in your own boredom. You thought she was overreacting. You were plenty busy, with work and your fiancée and friends, she was just being dramatic. Like always. The woman was a year older than you, but she still frequented these trashy clubs. You, however, felt increasingly like an outsider. An almost-married man shouldn’t be hanging out at these types of places. You’d gone to bars with your co-workers, whatever, all guys did that, but not nightclubs that barely checked ID.

Maybe you were being a little bitch. Rose hadn’t said that exactly, but it was implied. She always seemed to question you like you were a child that didn’t know what to do with itself. She said that it seemed one day you forgot about being a boyish prankster and just dove head-first into adulthood. You told her she’d always been an adult. She told you that she wasn’t you and that she didn’t like what effect Vriska had had on you. You hated that about her. You hated the way that Rose made it seem like every problem you had was centered around Vriska. They _weren’t._

You took another drink. You cringed as you heard another loud uproar from the crowd, and turn your attention to the DJing booth. The DJ was being replaced by another man. You couldn’t find it within yourself to care as he began to spin some new tunes. You finished your drink and set the glass back on the bar.

You rested your elbow on the bar, letting your eyes roam over the crowd. You slid your glass back and forth as you watched the people: a few creepy old people, some half-dressed women, the men after the half-dressed women. You could’ve sworn you saw Kanaya through the crowd, but you lost her from sight the minute you tried to get a better glance. You saw one man that looked a little too close to a guy that definitely did not look eighteen. Maybe he was just young-looking. Whatever.

One guy seemed to be pretty involved with a scantily clad woman, hands roaming all over her backside. You scrunched your nose at the sight. Your fiancée, of course, if she were here, wouldn’t shut up about the charade. She could find “#relationshipgoals” in any couple. Ever. She was never pleased, it seemed, and though you knew she wasn’t unhappy with you, she never told you when she was happy with you.

You regained yourself a minute before beckoning for another. As the bartender started on your order, you heard someone say in a somewhat strong southern accent, “Put it on my tab, Karkat.”

You looked up at the man, for he had a male voice, and scoped him out. Thankfully, he wasn’t a greasy creep. He was tall, built if not a bit lanky, and was wearing black jeans and a shirt with a decorative pocket. He inclined his head in your direction. _What a prick,_ you thought privately.

“Your tab?” The bartender snorted, “You owe a shit ton of money already.”

“Hey, I’ll pay it off. Are you my fuckin’ bartender or are you not?”

The man slid onto the stool next to yours and grinned slightly. He was wearing dark, mirrored shades even though the club wasn’t the slightest bit bright. It looked douchey. He looked like a douche, more accurately. You raised an eyebrow as the bartender, or Karkat or whatever, set your drink down. “And you are?”

“Dave. Dave Strider,” He brought two fingers to his forehead and saluted you. You rolled your eyes. “And what’s your name, babe?”

You could’ve sworn you heard Karkat laugh. You wanted to, too. Who did this guy think he, was ‘babe-ing’ you and all? “John,” you said, then quickly pinned on, “Egbert.”

“John,” he drawled, dragging your name out into more syllables than need be. You nodded slowly. “Nice to meet ya.”

“Likewise,” you said, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a sip.

“Pardon this, but you don’t really seem like a club goer.”

“You’re pardoned. But, no, uh, I’m not,” you let yourself shrug, “I came here with some friends…”

“And they just up and left you?”

“It’s not such a big deal,” you swished your drink around in your glass.

“Well, it’s an asshole-y thing to do.”

Karkat slid a bottle of something or other across the bar to Dave, who caught it and took a sip.

“I’ll be fine, jeez, I’m not gonna sit here and cry about it,” you told him. You blinked at him, then asked, “Hey, weren’t you-,”

“DJing?” He finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Yeah.”

“You’re really good!”

“Thanks.”

You tried for a smile, but it came out wobbly and unsure. If Dave noticed he didn’t comment on it. “Hey, John, do you dance any?”

“Uh, no, not a lot. I kinda suck…”

“Well, it don’t suck when you’ve got someone skilled to lead.”

“Poor John will never enjoy dancing then,” Karkat said from his place behind the bar, back towards you two. Dave placed his bottle on the table obnoxiously loud, causing you to jump a little. Karkat gave a breathy, condescending chuckle and shook his head, “Don’t you get all defensive on me, Strider.”

“Me? Defensive?” Dave asked, “As if. What’cha say, then, John?”

“You wanna dance with that sleaze?” Karkat exclaimed, “Oh, for shit's sake, you’re in for one helluva heartbreaking.”

“Karkat,” Dave said in a voice nearing on sing-song, although it was clear he was exasperated.

“Just trying to fucking warn the kid, Dave.”

“Kid? You know, I’m thirty-two,” you butted in. Karkat looked back at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Thirty-two?” He seemed to be looking for clarification. You nodded. “Well, damn. At least Strider’s finally picking from his age pool.”

You stiffened up. Dave noticed it, and Karkat did too. Karkat, however, seemed to take a much bigger appreciation for the effect of his comment, though and smirked slightly before heading off to help out another beckoning customer.

“So you’re only after me for my boyish charm?” you asked with a raised eyebrow, “Look, Dave, buddy, I know nerd is the new jock, but I’m not ready to fuel your pedophilia here.”

“Dammit!” Dave snapped his fingers, “Guess I’ll have to hit on that short brunette over there who looks like he got in with a fake ID.”

You laughed. “Don’t disturb that poor child! Here, talk to me instead.”

“Gladly,” he tilted the neck of the bottle towards you before taking a sip.

“Jeez, you should really sue that Karkat guy for slander. Pedophilia isn’t a joke!”

“Maybe I’d finally be able to pay my rent,” he said, and you laughed again. Dave was kinda cool. Kinda. “And don’t listen to Karkat,” Dave said, “He’s just jealous and upset that I DJ at the club he bartends at because we’re angsty ex-boyfriends.”

“Oh,” you were slightly taken aback. Dave didn’t look like he’d be… well… “I’m… sorry?”

“Don’t be,” he said, “Karkat’s a whiny fucking bitch,” Dave made sure to lean over the bar and practically shout at the bartender.

There was a faint ‘fuck you!’ and Dave seemed to be pleased with that. “Anyways,” he said, leaning back over, “How’re you liking the atmosphere?”

“Love it. Especially the prostitutes, terrible techno music, horny kids, and being bought free drinks by a strange man at the bar.”

“Hey, look, you saw Karkat make that drink fair and square. I’m not trying to pull anything sneaky here.”

“I would not hesitate to beat your ass if you so much as tried.”

“I believe it.”

“So.. you and Karkat were a thing? The bartender-y guy.”

“Yep, but he was a shitty partner. Hell, now that I’m done with that snarky asshat, I can place my interests in…” The colored light was striking his glasses just right so you could see his eyes look you up and down, “Others.”

“Others?”

“That’s what I said, ain’t it?” He smiled without showing any teeth.

“And I’m an other, then?”

“Definitely. Y’know, the pretty ones are never easy.”

You bit your lip. “I don’t think…”

“Hmm?”

Your glass was to your lips then. This was fun at first, but now you felt less at ease and more like you were up being shone on by a spotlight. “Look at this loser!”a disembodied voice would cry from the crowd, “cheating on his wife and all!” and then everyone would boo at you. You coughed into it slightly. “I’m sorry, man, um....” you almost found yourself not wanting to mention Vriska. You’d never ever thought you’d cheat, or even consider cheating. Much less with a _man._ “I can’t.”

“Can’t what, babe?”

“You know. This.” Your words weren’t working right, so you stumbled on them like an imbecile. What were you, a middle school dork? You felt like his gaze, even though you couldn’t see his eyes anymore, was freezing you up like you’d been wrapped in cellophane. You were unable to move.

He raised an eyebrow.

You tried to get out a few more attempts at denying him, then you sighed and said very quietly as if you didn’t want to be heard, “I have a wife.” Technically, she wasn’t your wife yet, but she might as well have been.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “Married man, are ya? Unhappily, I’m guessin’.”

“What?” You recoiled, “No! It’s very happy!”

“John, I wasn’t fuckin’ born yesterday.”

“How can you say that about my marriage?”

Dave looked like he wanted to laugh. “A happily married man doesn’t accept drinks and flirt with men at the bar. I’m gonna guess you aren’t stupid. You know what this is about.”

“You never said sex, though,” you were trying to make excuses now, “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Weren’t you?”

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it again.

“I don’t care, y'know,” he said, laying his arm on the bar.

“Don’t care about what?”

“Your wife,” his gaze flicked down to your lips, “Your kids if you’ve got any. I don’t give a fuck.”  
  
Your mouth was dry. You wanted to leave. Find Rose and Kanaya and bolt. But you couldn’t. Dave was here, Dave was staring right at you, and in that second, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about anyone but yours truly.

So, like an idiot, an unfaithful, disloyal, scummy idiot, you closed your eyes. You dipped your head once, then opened your eyes again and looked at Dave.

“Alright.”

He grinned this time and tilted his head so the light wasn’t bouncing off his mirror shades. “How about that dance, then, John?”

\----

The first thing you managed to notice was that Dave’s apartment was insanely close to the club. Like, just a casual stroll away. You were in the red light district, and you let Dave hold your hand as he led you along (only because he said that he wanted to make sure ‘poor Mr. Suburbia didn’t get mugged or raped. You punched him in the shoulder for that). Documenting the people you passed, the things thrown to the curb, counting the passing planes and whatnot in the sky- all of that just to forget about Vriska.

The second thing you cared to notice was that Dave was pretty strong. The second you were in his apartment you were being pushed against a wall. His lips were on yours and you scrambled for purchase on his shirt as he nipped at your bottom lip and pushed his tongue into your mouth. He was a lot better than Vriska, in your opinion.

Don’t think about Vriska. Not now.

\----

You woke up first.

And you absolutely _flipped out._

You weren’t sure if you should bolt or stick around, make breakfast or pretend to be asleep and cuddle up next to Dave- you’d never had a one night stand, for Christ’s sake. He had one arm tucked around you and you had been laying on his chest and you couldn’t move because then you’d wake him up and make things worse.

Dave’s glasses were on the side table, yours were smushed uncomfortably against your face, and he had a hand laying behind his head. He snored. When you looked over at him you saw that there was a purpling mark on his skin, and you let out a quiet, strangled cry. If you had a hickey like that there would be problems.

Dave moved a tiny bit and temporarily tightened his hold on you. It felt suffocating. There were a few moments of silence before you heard a sleepy scoff. “You’re still here, Egbert?”

“Uh…” you mumbled intelligently.

He peeked open one eye at you. You were surprised to find it was reddish in color. “Ain’t your wife going to worry?”

“No,” you said, talking to him but also reassuring yourself, “She’s staying at the workshop overnight tonight. And I told her I might be crashing at Rose and Kanaya’s last night,” he said, then added, “Those are my lesbian friends, so she won’t care.”

Dave clicked his tongue. “Rose Lalonde?”

You nodded.

He chuckled, closing his eyes again and laying back on the pillow. “Yeah. That’s my sister.”

“Your what?”

“We ain’t really related but, uh,” Dave shrugged, which jostled you a little since you were still laying on him, “Me and my brother Dirk have known her and her sister since we were small, y’know? Basically siblings.”

“Dirk.”

“Yep.”

“Dirk Strider.”

“Yeah, man, it’s crazy how brothers have the same last name.”

“I work with Dirk,” you said, then blinked a few times, “Oh my god, I _work_ with Dirk Strider.”

Dave looked over at you again. “Oh. You’re that Egbert. He’s talked about you a little.”

You sat up suddenly and heard Dave’s faint protest when his arm was knocked away. “You don’t seem to really care about the predicament we’ve landed ourselves in.”

“You work with my brother and we share a lezzie friend. Big fuckin’ deal.”

“We’re going to have to see each other after this, Dave!” you cried.

“John, man, are you always like this in the morning?” Dave groaned out a little as he sat up, “Chill out. Look, we had sex one time. I’m sure that isn’t going to counter, uh… how many years?”

“Four years,” you answered miserably.

“Right. That isn’t gonna counter four years of marriage,” he stretched and you heard joints crack.

“We aren’t married yet,” you decided on telling him the truth. It wasn’t as bad, “We’re just engaged.”

Dave hummed. “See? Makes it even easier. Might as well work out the affair before she’s actually allowed to divorce you and steal your everything,” he patted your back, “How about some morning after sex to cheer you up?”

You let your head fall into your hands.

When he spoke up again he was off on another tangent. “Ah, well, that’s okay. Are you hungry? I’m shitty at cooking but even an idiot can’t fuck up using a toaster.”

You let one shoulder rise and fall indifferently. He rolled his eyes.

“John, you’re a good guy,” he started, lifting the cover and swinging his feet over the side of the bed, “Perhaps too good,” he grabbed his shades, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and put them on before standing and turning back to John. It was kind of funny to see a guy in shades but also stripped down to record-print boxers, “I don’t know. But I do know that you-,”

“I want this, Dave.”

He furrowed his brow. “What?”

You gestured between the two of you vaguely. “This. I liked it a lot, more so than I would’ve possibly with Vriska and….” you broke off with a sigh, “I don’t know.”

“You want to have an affair.”

You didn’t say anything.

“With me.”

Again, you remained silent.

“Well, fucking hell, I’m down to be your mistress any day of the week, John, but you gotta treat me like a lady.”

You looked up at him. He didn’t look phased by the idea that he was sleeping with a near married man. In fact, you’d go as far to say he looked pleased with himself. He was proud of how he’d gotten you like this, almost. Proud of the hickey worn like a badge on his neck.

He really was an asshole.

But you didn’t have the energy to get mad, so you just snorted. “Do I have to take you out to dinner before we fuck?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to get me just a little tipsy on dessert wine,” he added, “Feed me chocolate covered strawberries and sit out under the stars.”

You grabbed his sheet from the bed despite his protests and draped it around yourself like a cloak. “You’re ridiculous, Strider.”

“Says you,” he replied, “Don’t get all high and mighty on me, Egdork.”

\----

Dave was very sweet.

Well, he could be. 

Perhaps he looked like an asshole “hit it and quit it” type of guy (which, arguably, he was) but he was very sweet to you. One morning you’d woken up to the smell of something burning, and you had found he had tried to make you breakfast.

“I thought it would work out better than it did,” he said as he scrubbed out the pan and you tried to clear away the smoke with a magazine. You had all the windows open, “Sorry about that. You wanna go to Denny’s?”

Maybe it wasn’t the epitome of a romantic gesture, but at least he was trying.

Vriska wasn’t an idiot, though, and sometimes she did get a little suspicious. You bullshitted. Work, mostly. Always work. You made sure to do extra nice things to her whenever you and Dave couldn’t do anything to ease her worrying. Vriska didn’t deserve what you were doing. This was all on your end. You were in the wrong.

Frankly, you felt gross about it all, but while you loved Vriska, you loved Dave, too. One day the idea crossed your mind that you loved Vriska, but you were in love with Dave.

As poetic as that may have sounded, like something Rose would scribble in her leather-bound notebook, you had no fucking clue what it meant.

Dave’s presence was something you had to come to understand. He wasn’t just a one-night stand. He hadn’t been a one night stand since he put his number into your phone under the contact name “Daddy Strider” with a serious of innuendo-ridden emojis. When Vriska saw you texting him, she rolled her eyes and said, “Who’s the new guy?”

And you’d said, “He’s just a work friend.”

And she’d bought it because you don’t think she’d ever expect for the guy who sent you excessive amounts of winky faces and made bad jokes about being your basic white boy (haha (; and then what) would ever actually be sleeping with her fiancé.

Dave made you feel like you wished he didn’t. It was way too intense to be described as simply “butterflies”. If there were butterflies, they were butterflies at a motorcycle derby constantly raging in your stomach, but all the bikers were blind, deaf, and kept doing wheelies and crashing into each other and everything else.

Dave was charming and quirky. Perhaps unwillingly. He only ate red Skittles and he’d had the same converse sneakers for seven years and he made hilariously bad raps on purpose but could freestyle like nobody’s business if he wanted to. Sometimes you went back to the club you’d met him at to listen to him DJ, and you’d talk to Karkat. You found you rather liked Karkat.

“He’s a loser,” he said one day as he began mixing some drink, “You know how he broke up with me?”

“Text?”

“Even fucking worse. Singing telegram.”

“You’re shitting me.”

He shook his head. “Nope. It was ‘ironic’ or some shit. Fucking sent me a telegram to tell me to piss off. Opened the door and there was a lady with a scepter thing… uh..” he trailed off and tapped his fingers on the bar in thought, “a cane! She had a cane and the whole feminized ragtime gal getup. The girl’s voice was nice, I’ll give her that, but I think she felt bad for me after she did it. She invited me over to her house for a pizza and movie date.”

“That’s a dick move,” you managed through your laugh.

Karkat rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, joke’s on him because I started dating the singing telegram girl.”

This caused you to laugh even louder.

\----

Vriska wanted a summer wedding. You wanted a spring wedding, but you guessed that you might as well humor Vriska and let her have her way. Happy wife, happy life, anyways. You wondered, sometimes, how much you’d regret breaking off the engagement with her. You thought you loved Vriska. You wouldn’t have dated her for four years if you didn’t like her loud, cackling laugh and messy blonde hair and her big-framed glasses.

But, then again, you also liked Dave’s hipster platinum blond hair and his mirror shades and his red eyes.

You couldn’t have both of them, though, which was what tore you up the most. You knew you couldn’t stay with Vriska unless you blew Dave off. And if you broke up your “friends with benefits” arrangement, you couldn’t possibly rekindle that into just a friendship. It’d be far too awkward. And it was far too much to hope Vriska would be willing to even be charitable towards you if you left her for a man you’d cheated on her with.

You were probably the master of self-pity at this point.

\----

“Hey, Dave?”

“Yeah?”

You were in his apartment. You heard a siren outside over the TV. You were watching some reality show and eating Chinese food, but you hadn’t really been paying attention to the show.

“What are we?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’re a genius engineer with a beautiful fiancée and I’m a near middle-aged loser who DJs for a living and fucks married men.”

You dropped your gaze. It didn’t sound pretty at all when he said it like that.

“Does that about cover it?” he continued.

“I guess, but…”

“But what?” he prompted, “John if this is your roundabout way of asking for some kinky ass shit to go down next time we dance the horizontal tango-,”

“If I wasn’t with Vriska, Dave.”

There was a tenseness in the room.

You learned quickly that Dave didn’t like talking about the hard-hitting stuff. He weaseled out of conversations about your relationship. He didn’t mention the times you’d moaned out the L-word during the night and didn’t want to remember how you cuddled up to him afterward.

“Wouldn’t it be the same?”

You shrugged. “I dunno,” you intended to leave it at that, but you knew Dave would try to change the topic, so you continued, “Would you ever consider being… I don’t know, involved with me?”

“We are involved.”

“Romantically involved.”

Dave inhaled sharply. “You’re engaged.”

“You don’t care that I’m engaged when I’m on my knees for you,” you replied somewhat bitterly.

“Do you plan on leaving her?”

“I would for you.”

You watched Dave react to this, watched him as he swallowed this piece of information and turned it around in his mind.

“But if I leave her, Dave, I want to know that you’d be willing to be committed.”

The siren turned to a buzz in the back of your mind. Dave took a prolonged sip from a bottle of beer and laid his head back on the couch. Perhaps it was too much to ask of him. Too much to ask of a man who thought the world revolved around him. Dave was a planet in some far-fetched galaxy and you were a meteor caught in his orbit. You might break apart, but you couldn’t escape Dave’s atmosphere.

“...Do you love me, John?” Dave asked. It filled you with all kinds of hope. Maybe he wanted you like you wanted him.

“I do. God, do I ever love you, Dave.”

Dave sighed and set his beer on the side table. He lifted his glasses briefly to rub his eye before saying, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Your eleventh-grade science teacher hadn’t had his facts straight, apparently, because you felt your galaxy collapse right there and then.

**Author's Note:**

> quick shoutout to xphantomhive because their johndave is my shit and i love them
> 
> reading their fanfics really encouraged me to post my own work that i've been reluctant about because the homestuck fandom is so intimidating in my eyes and i have been scared to share my stuff
> 
> honestly they're a huge inspiration for me so <3 
> 
> [here's my personal blog.](http://luciferslittlekitten.tumblr.com/)  
> [here's my writing blog.](http://gods--among--us.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
